By Sibel Ozer
“Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who love with heart and soul there is no such thing as separation.”
Few among us get the privilege to bypass the experience of a premature, untimely loss of a loved one. The pandemic of 2020 has added to already existing causes of mortality, making it harder than usual to deny death as an organic part of life. I recently lost two junior high/high school friends as we all turn 50. They were not my closest friends, and yet their untimely death, one due to a prolonged battle with cancer and the other to a suffering-free sudden death during sleep, was impactful nevertheless.
I was able to talk to my friend with cancer when she knew what was ahead. She was an eternal optimist and didn’t want to talk about the inevitable obvious end, even though I assured her my experiences with hospice made me comfortable to talk about death, should she want to. She focused instead on all that she would and wouldn’t want to do, should she recover. She was clear that she had spent too much time and energy worrying about others, and tending to their demands. She was a perfectionist by nature, a university professor committed to the needs of her students, and the requirements of an academic life. She was a wife and a mother, doing a hell of a (good enough) job in both areas as well. She was an exceptional friend, a great listener, one of those people who lift you up with their optimism (and beautiful smile) and encouragement rather then suck you dry with their worries and complaints. The question remains, was she as nice to herself as she was to others?
They say it is hardest to love oneself, to forgive oneself, to include oneself in the compassion one readily offers others. Of course there are plenty of people not included in this category, those who are able to protect self-interest above all else and others, those who can rationalize any wrongdoing; I’m not referring to them. Or those many moments where we all partake in this tendency. My friend admitted that should she recover, she wanted to take more time for herself, to travel, to hang out with dear friends, to paint more. She would work less, not be as perfectionistic, especially professionally. Her list was not unlike the findings of the Australian palliative nurse, Bronnie Ware, who wrote The Top 5 Regrets of the Dying.
The top five were the wish that they had the courage to live a life true to themselves as opposed to the life others expected of them. They wish they hadn’t worked so hard. They wish they had the courage to express their feelings, they wish they had stayed in touch with their friends, and finally they wish they had let themselves be happier, realizing that it was a choice.
Of course, I wish I could add to this list now, because I can think of possible others given we all are so very different. Leonardo Da Vinci’s deathbed worries about all that was left undone (or unexplored) come to mind. The rest of us mere mortals might as well give up on the idea of a clear conscience!!
I hadn’t kept in touch with my other friend, and read her book Istanbul Terapisi only afterward her death. I gave the Gods and Goddesses of creativity a bow of gratitude as I thought about the amazing quality of the arts that extend the sharing of thoughts and feelings after death. I not only enjoyed her delightful, and thought provoking novel, but felt like I was visiting with her in her absence. Another friend shared an interview of hers where she spoke about how she loved spending time alone, times I imagine her reading, thinking, or writing, in other words visiting with the muses. Her death came in sleep, so there were no conversations about her preferences, but reading about her main character who recovered the loss of her twins navigating the arduous journey of grief on her very own unique terms left me thinking she might not have had many regrets. She was one of those who searched her conscience deeply and gave thought to dying, allowing it inform her life choices.
Both these friends lived fully, were productive members of society leaving memorable legacies of their own; they were individuals of rare beauty of the soul befitting of the saying only the good die young. I can’t help but wonder if their untimely death, however tragic, might not be an incredible gift in disguise for those of us willing to contemplate.
I’ve always been one of those who believe in learning, both through study, experience, and vicariously. I also believe in change, in the possibility of it when there is enough of a will and motivation to persevere. Of course about things that have to do with our agency, it would be ludicrous to deny the impact of fate in life. We still get to create our lives in collaboration with what fate/life brings in how we respond to it, with the lens we decide to look at things and the attitude we hold. What better time than a pandemic to contemplate these matters. Initially it seemed like it would never end, but soon enough it’ll be over before we know it.
What are You doing with your limited life force and precious time these days?
Sibel Ozer is a licensed professional counselor and board-certified art therapist currently doing private practice in downtown Ann Arbor. She started her career as a clinical psychologist working with earthquake survivors in Turkey. She continued her work in the United States in hospice, hospital, and private practice settings further specializing in grief, loss, and trauma. She is a certified EMDR practitioner and a graduate of the Gestalt Institute of Cleveland. She gives experiential workshops nationally and in her country of origin (Turkey) on different art therapy topics. Visit www.sibelozer.com, call (303) 905-1109, or email fireflyarttherapy@gmail.com.
Related Content:
When I split from my ex in the late 1980's, I didn't take the toaster or the television with me. Instead, I got custody of the tarantula.